


End of Our War

by Shadowsdarklight



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, M/M, Other, Sex, Smut, Xenophilia, Yaoi, xenokink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-02 22:44:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14555154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowsdarklight/pseuds/Shadowsdarklight
Summary: His Tallest has given up on him, leaving Zim to die on the planet he was exiled to. When all activity from Zim stopped, Dib seems to be the only one to check on him, realizing how bad everything has gotten.(ONGOING WRITING)





	1. Chapter 1

(Zim’s POV)

Have you ever had the realization of something crash onto you so hard, it feels like it might as well have killed you? Instead of leaving you a crippled mess of depression and regret…

It’s only been a week now. A week since my leaders cut contacts with me. A week since they told me I’m worthless, that I’m NOTHING.

The only reason I haven’t been deactivated is because the Tallest don’t even see me as a threat. That killing me is a waste of time. That THIS was their only true gift to me, letting me live. A disappointment.

A defective.

And then they ended their call. Deactivated any form of communication I had that could possibly come into contact with them. I wanted answers, I wanted to know WHY!

So I haven’t left my house in probably a week. I didn’t go to school. I didn’t even answer the door. I’ve just… given up, I’ll admit that much.

I was curled up in a ball on my couch when GIR tried to catch my attention. Just wrapped in a blanket with only my leggings. I wasn’t fit to wear the uniform. I stole a shirt from one of the other neighbors some time ago, I’d have to wear that If I ever decided to leave the house. “Master, Master, Mary’s here! He’s at the door, go get it! He wants to talk to you!” His robotic vibrations rang through my antenna as he extended words unnecessarily.

I hated the human language; specifically english. There was no proper flow to the words, no elegant pronunciations to anything. Some movies did it right it seemed, but the rest of the world was like a plague of vicious gagging that they could all somehow understand. Except me.

Even amongst other defectives and garbage, I was the worst of them. And they weren’t even the same species! I was a failure. Nothing but a dying magot among worms.

“Uh… Zim?” a voice said in front of me. I didn’t bother looking at who it was. Who else would it be? I just wrapped myself tighter into the dark cotton sheet around me.

When I finally got a look at him, when he talked to GIR, He looked different. Not by much, just new clothes and a new… thingy. A metal bit that pierced the flesh of his lower ear. Blue shirt, leather trench coat, whatever, but the metal piece… what was that?

He knelt down beside me, next to the couch. And as soon as he was close enough I touched it, poking at where the bit went through the flesh.

“What has happened?”

And he just stared. Stared like the rest of them did, but… “That’s nothing, what happened to you? You haven’t been to school in weeks, I haven’t seen you in months!” It’s hard to have a concept of time here. I grew up learning the irken increments of how to measure things, which is much slower than here. I could probably have days pass and be unaware if it’s been hours or weeks… I guess I already have…

“Nothing has happened to Zim,” I gritted through my teeth, turning over so I was facing the back of the couch. So I didn’t have to look at him.

“He was kicked out!” GIR piped up. Why was he talking…

“Kicked out?” the Dib questioned, “Kicked out of what, what’s wrong?” I don’t know why he was being so nice. I wanted to respond, tell him to leave, but I couldn’t. I’ve never been more unsure of my entire life before. I could feel my throat tighten, refusing to let the words spill out.

“Zim has- I…” My tongue refused to speak. Vocal folds vibrating and quivering, yet unable to create wanted sound. I found myself curling further into the blanket. I’m unsure if my species can even cry, I have never experienced it, nor have I seen it, but if I could, I would. The humans say it helps, don’t they?

I felt the other side of the couch sink down, but I didn’t need to look to know it wasn’t GIR. The Dib has gotten tall. Throughout the middles and high school, we were meant to be seniors, and Dib was a healthy 1.78 meters tall while I have sadly only hit a meter and a half. 150 centimeters. That wasn’t even tall for my home planet.

We might have been fighting, back to old sports, the routine, if I wasn’t like this. Even if I could take over the planet, I couldn’t contact my Tallest to tell them what I had done. I wasn’t a threat. Was I ever even a real threat? Sure I caused some havoc and chaos, but that hysteria never even left this town. I was always defeated by a mere human or even my own robot’s incompetence. Or even my own incompetence.

“Hey, come on, ya gotta talk to me.” Maybe that’s why he wasn’t threatened by me anymore. Tall, strong, he could hurt me more than I could hurt him. Irkens were breed to be killers and hunters, yet a measly flesh bag could take me down, pathetic.

“Zim has been,” I felt numb, only feeling the reverb of my words after they were said, “Discharged as an Invader.”

“You quit… being an invader?” I shook my head. “Fired?”

“Oh,” was all he said when I gave him a nod. And there was an awkward pat against my pak. Was this pity? Empathy? I didn’t know the difference anymore.

I didn’t have my disguise on, neither did I really need it. He knew what I looked like, and If he had been anyone else, GIR could have taken care of it.

The awkward pat turned into a soft rub just above the pak, but just below the shoulders. I think it’s supposed to be comforting. I wasn’t really used to being comforted, but it was kinda nice. And the back of my neck and top of my head. This is how I could tell I was no longer ANY form of threat, when your nemesis is willing to have contact with you without it being to cause pain or inflict damage.

I didn’t feel good. I didn’t feel like doing anything. Not anymore. I just want this planet to open up and swallow me whole.


	2. Chapter 2

(Zim’s POV)

The human came back the next day. Or was it two days? Either way, I hadn’t moved. I just let GIR flip through the channels of the TV, while I tossed and turned on the couch. Wondering if the next years of my life would matter, whether it be three hundred years, or thirty. I don’t know if being on a different planet affected my lifespan. It had oxygen, so my pak wasn’t working overtime to process the air to be breathable. In fact, I don’t think it was doing anything aside from trying to metastasis the sugar into raw energy.

“Have you… moved at all?” Dib asked out of curiosity.

“What would the point be…” It wasn’t a question I needed an answer to. There was no answer; everything was pointless now.

“Come on, get up,” Dib tried, physically pulling me to sit upright on the sofa. My eyes hurt with being exposed to the light of the room, and my right antenna felt cramped at the base from being pressed and played on for the past… whatever. “Where’s your uniform?” he asked, completely confused.

“Zim is not fit to wear the symbol of Irk,” I told him. I should just burn the thing. Destroy it. “They no longer consider me an Irken. I’m closer to your pathetic race than my own.”

“What happened to ‘Zim is amazing,’ or ‘superior genetics’ and all that… Huh?” the Dib tried. But I did not answer. And to that, I felt a hand on my side as he forced me to sit up. “Come on now, how long has it been since you moved from this couch?” There was a small indent that perfectly framed my body where I had stayed.

“How long has Zim been away from the school?”

“A month?”

“Yep.” A flash of shock ran over Dib’s face. He probably wouldn’t have believed me had it not been from the deep bags under my eyes. I really hadn’t moved since the news. Why would I, where would I go, what would I do?

“Come on, get up. Get dressed.”

“Why-”

“Get up, get up. We’re doing... something that makes you feel better,” he tried. I lazily stood, walking to the area I store miscellaneous costumes and outfits and found a relatively normal one. Just black. I didn’t want pink, or purple or reds, they reminded me too much of home. I shoved in the contacts, I’m not even sure they were matching colors and threw on the wig. It was uncombed and unwashed, sticky from the hair gel I used to keep it in place, but I didn’t bother to fix it.

Dib looked down at me, slightly amused at how I looked in this ridiculous outfit.

“You look like you belong at a Marilyn Manson concert.”

“I have no input on your bitter taste in music, but if you dislike my mood you can leave me to wallow in filth. You hideous earth dooky.” And for some reason, he smiled at that.

GIR cut in, “I thought he was a MONKEY!?” But he went ignored.

"He's DOOKY!" I said a little louder.

“That’s a little more like it. Now, what do you wanna do?”

“Go back home,” I said softly. And his trying smile dropped a little bit.

“You could go back though… couldn’t you?” I shook my head, no. I couldn’t even contact my Tallest, I’m sure I’d be shot on sight if I even entered the planet’s orbit. He seemed to want to comfort me, if I read his face correctly. But that would have been uncomfortable, so he just patted my pak like before.

“Get rid of it.”

“What?”

“My pak. Get rid of it. You wish to dissect me, no? To dismantle Zim? Do it, but when I wake up… if you allow me to wake up, I want it gone. It’s the last piece that reminds me of my imprisonment on this miserable rock full of idiots. That’s what I want to do today.”

Dib was completely taken aback. “And tomorrow?”

“We’ll see.”

(Dib’s POV)

It was such a fascinating piece of technology. Of course, I took him up on the offer, I’d thought about it since I realized what the pak could do. As far as I knew, It seemed to filter the air for it to be breathable, so I’m assuming it contains a version of lungs, or something similar. He still seemed to have closed circulatory system, so his heart would be in his body. It wouldn’t make sense for it to be in the pack, aside from the vessels that connected to the ‘lungs.’

The mechanics didn’t seem to do much else aside from processing alien foods into something he could metabolize. But chemically, his body should be able to do that to if its stabilized right.

This was all again explained to me as Zim pointed out some of the gears safety mechanics and what to avoid. How he wanted it moved and what devices to use for what. As if he’d done this before. Or at least wanted to.

He may as well have, it seems he’s wanted the pack off for a while now. Maybe before the tallest told him, maybe after, but he’d thought about it. Enough to know that it was a possibility. That is was survivable.

Painful, but survivable. Why painful? He wanted to be awake during the surgery.

“Why would you possibly want to be awake during this? I’m… removing your lungs, and torturing your circulatory system by moving major vessels… This is going to hurt. ALOT. You understand that right?” Of course, he did.

“I can take pain, I’m-” It looked like he wanted to say ‘i’m an invader,’ but… he wasn’t. Not anymore. He was barely Irken. “It’s what I was bred for.”

“For pain?”

“Taking it… inflicting it. Whatever I was told to do. I did it, no matter how much it pained me. All for my Tallest. I was made to obey.” And he paused.

Staring at the tools that surrounded him, at the table… at me.

“Zim obeys no more.”


	3. Chapter 3

(Zim’s POV)

I could hear the pack click open as more parts were revealed to Dib.

It was... off, strange, to have someone else touch the insides of my pak. Not unpleasant, but not really… pleasant. Having air against my organs is not a great feeling. My biology didn’t like the fact that my most fragile organs were being exposed. The most basic part of my brain thought it even worse that it had been one of my enemies. Old enemies.

None of the fights between us were life threatening anymore. No real harm or hatred had been shown to the other. At school, I could almost consider him a friend… in the fact that he was the only one who talked to me.

Though the rational part of my mind, my pack, my programming, be it mechanical or organic, I knew that this was… okay. Because I didn’t care. If death came to take me, so be it. If it didn’t, I’d politely thank Dib and continue to breathe until it finally caught up.

“Beautiful…” Dib spoke aloud, delicately unscrewing the necessary pieces to get to the tissues. Most of the mechanical bits were either containers for the organs, and locking mechanisms to keep them in, or chemical stabilizers. The lack of stabilizers may be a problem, but I’m hoping I can make them into some kind of… of… pill maybe. I don’t know, something that could easily enter and filter through my system like the external stabilizers already did.

“Beauty? It’s sickening…” Months ago I would have said otherwise. I would have said it was the most beautiful and magnificent thing he’d ever laid his eyes upon! But now I didn’t want it near me. Even though it might just be the only thing keeping me alive.

I’m only eighty percent sure I’ll be able to breathe earth's troposphere. It contains amounts of water that my pack would normally filter out so none of it could make it through to my most important bits.

I was still wearing the wig and contacts, too depressed to take them off properly. The shirt was hiked up around my neck, hanging into my lap as I sat upright, waiting for the sharp pains to start.

There was a sharp clicking noise as the mechanisms tried to replace gears they didn’t have anymore, and shift parts that were no longer shiftable.

“Wow…” was all he said at first, letting gears and bolts and screws hit the metal operating table. “An incredible piece of technology.”

“It is.” I couldn’t deny that fact. Intelligence and technology were what my species was known for.

“I’m about to hit some tubbing, should I-”

“Don’t touch them!... Not- not yet. Work around them to take the cover off first. It’ll be easier to work around without it trying to latch itself back together.”

“Okay-”

“Those would also be the oxygen supply. I would like my lungs to be properly attached to my throat and heart before trying to severe those.” I wouldn’t want to try and add a timer on how long I stayed conscious without oxygen. I think I could go fifteen minutes or so without circulation before cells started to die. Ten tops though without blacking out.

Most of this would take longer than ten minutes.

(Dib’s POV)

Magnificent.

“I got the cover off, now…” He mumbled something, sliding instructions my way. His handwriting in English was readable at best, but still sloppy. “You sure you don’t want to be unconscious for this? I’m about to start cutting tissue-”

“Zim can bear it. Continue.” His voice was demanding but soft. Scared even, but if I mentioned it out loud he may back out of this. His pride getting the better of him. And with so much exposed, anything could be dangerous at this point.

Every incision was met with a whimper or groan. Quick, perfect lines, knife cauterizing anything it cut to keep bleeding to a minimum. I made every incision to the exact, my hands surprisingly steady for how nervous I am.

The inner workings of an animal so perfectly intertwined with technology has never looked so perfected. No rusting or corrosion, nothing, and it didn’t look as easy as replacing pieces as they get old. I mean, the pak was ‘removable’ in a sense, but it seemed a though the tubes needed to stay attached for him to get any oxygen.

I warned him I was about to cut into his trachea, making the breathing more reliant on his mouth than the pak’s filter. Even with the warning, he almost seemed to scream at the metal intrusion so close to his mouth. And every insert of the organic thread I sutured it on with. Though, no sound came out. and no air was passing through for it to after I had cut off the smaller tube that gave vocal chords vibrations.

He breathed through his mouth to seem ‘normal’ and help with talking, but to be completely reliant on mouth breathing… this was going to be different for him.

“Can you breath?” He let out a heavy rasp. Face going pale, as though he was about to faint, but he wouldn’t let his body give out, not when he’s come so far.

“Go.” Was all he could say, but at least he could still talk. He was still getting pure oxygen from the tubing, but those didn’t need to come undone until all the mechanical pieces were removed.

Next was to actually put the lungs into the body. Shift them, hope they stabilize and basically pray that his body won’t reject them as an outside object.

And I was stalling. I was still working but I was stalling. I was taking apart small pieces, one gear at a time to get me better access to the skin, leaving nothing but the shell of the pack left. In my defense I had to get the shell off before I could even think to get through the skin.

The filters and tubes were still connected, still working, but nothing was attached to skin anymore aside from the stabilizers and oxygen.

This would be a much easier process to do in his front, though none of this was an easy process. To attach the trachea, all I had to do was cut through flesh and avoid tendons and major muscles, and go AROUND his spinal column. NOT the easiest thing to do. Nor was it easy to SEW in these conditions. But to get into the torso to place his lungs in the correct place…

I was going to have to break his ribs.


	4. Chapter 4

(Zim’s POV)

This is not the worst pain I’ve been in. No. Breed to endure pain, breed to heal quickly, get back to battle faster than the enemy, but the pain was still registered. Pain was still PAIN.

This is not the worst pain I’ve been in, but it’s a close second.

To have four ribs intentionally broken from behind. To have you're being so violated and torn from the inside. Even worse to have it done willingly. To know when it’s going to happen.

I think I was screaming after the first crack rang through my antenna, but I wasn’t sure until my throat felt rawer than before. Sure I healed fast, but I shouldn’t put this much strain on my vocal chords.

It was… weird. Definitely weird to feel my lungs inflate as I breathed. I never paid it any mind, but to now feel pressure against it, to feel it inflate by itself. To have to consciously think about it in a way was new. It was weird.

I felt Dib have to stretch my diaphragm down a lot further than normal to be able to fit in the ‘new’ organs, having to fit them around my rapidly beating heart in my thoracic cavity. I knew it would be a tight fit, but I could never imagine the actual feeling of my squeedlyspooch shifting inside me as I was awake. The diaphragm, whatever humans may use it for, helps irkens by getting the heart to beat faster and distribute balancing chemical to heal faster.

The squeedlyspooch helped the heart too, but the heart itself was its own organ. Most Irkens don’t even count our… uh, ‘lungs’ as an organ, because it’s not technically in or a part of your body.

My squeedlyspooch was similar to the human digestive system, only needing one organ to process foods instead of… how many did humans have… nine? Maybe? Nine separate organs just to absorb nutrients. Stupid.

I was in such a frozen state, trying to keep my body from moving, from screaming. Trying to focus on only my breathing and not the fire like air that was against my exposed muscle. I must not have blinked in a while, but I only noticed this as one of my contacts fell out of my eye.

I don’t know how much blood I was losing, Dib wouldn’t tell me, but I felt wet. Sure the cauterizer helped, but it wouldn’t do that much when dealing with, cutting into, and moving large muscular groups. I was definitely bleeding. I’ll clean it up later. Things hurt too much to think.

“You doing okay?” I grunted, but he must have taken it as a yes. “I’m not sure how you want me to reset your ribs, we never discussed this part.” The pain was so overwhelming it was actually turning numb. I didn’t regret it though.

I disliked how much blood I could see on the table. Around my legs, pink and bright, flooded with serums and vitamins as the pack tried to heal me as it was being taken off. But it’s gone. Dear Tallest, it’s gone! I’d be giddy, happy, thrilled, but that came later. We had to see if I survived this first.

I snapped my fingers, getting Computer’s attention. Along with the thread, I had many forms of organic medical equipment. I could set the computer to operate, but as soon as I mentioned removing the pack, the computer glitched. Though it wouldn’t remove the pack, I COULD ask it NOT to replace it as I let it set my ribs. As I now had it programmed to do.

Dib stood back in horror as the mechanical arms lifted my body off the table and began resetting my ribs around my newly replaced organs. Everything was inflamed and enlarged from the movement and agitation. Irritated and swollen, things didn’t WANT to fit quite right, but I was MAKING it. I’m sure once the swelling went down it would feel less… internally claustrophobic.

That’s the only way I could think to explain it.

And then the computer just… dropped me. Like it was disgusted. Like I wasn’t worthy to use the technology.

I wasn't. Not anymore. Maybe I never was.

I don’t think I’ll ever know.

“Jesus Christ, are you okay?” Dib screamed, but it sounded ‘underwater’, as one might say. Distorted and hard to hear right, soft like it was at a distance. I think I’m blacking out. “Zim… can… hear me? Zi…” Muffled and weird.

“Bed,” I tried. He picked me up, seeming to hear me, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t hear, and my vision was blurry, even when Dib took out the other contact. The only way I could tell I talked was feeling the vibrations through my throat, raw and painful, but it was there. It was hard to breathe, but I WAS breathing. Without having to think about it much either, so I hopefully won’t stop if, or when, I DO blackout.

I think Dib was still talking, but I couldn’t hear it, just feel the vibrations against my chest. I was fighting for consciousness and losing. The remaining serums in my bloodstream were working overtime, making me feel warm and too calm, it wasn’t helping the fight, but it was fixing me. I could feel my outermost skin welding itself together, sealing the blood inside so I was losing less of it, but I was still bleeding internally.

My lungs burned like they never had before, but it was also… refreshing. To be self-reliant, to not be dependent on technology that controlled every possible chemical reaction in my body. I’d have to make serums to keep my body stable. Metabolism, oxygen intake, riding carbon dioxide and water, eating… I was doing the math for different needed chemical compounds in my head as everything went fuzzy. I had it all done and written and notes were taken. I had serums to help to heal already started, I just needed to finish and take them.

I wonder... if I made it right, I could eat normal food… Like a HUMAN... Something that allowed me to eat like Dib did. Oh, the freedom…

And that was my last thought as I finally faded to black.


End file.
